Sidekick Love
by Eridanus1123
Summary: The one he's wanted all this time is right under his nose, but will he, in bumbling sidekick style, screw it up and be too late? Ron/Hermione oneshot, hint of Dramione


_Okay kids, this is the requested oneshot about Ron and Hermione, although I couldn't help throwing in a lil Draco. Obsessed? Me? Nah._

_It switches between three POVs. It was meant to have separate-y things but fanfiction took 'em off. Damn fanfiction!_

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_Sidekick Love_

Ronald Weasley was just your average sidekick, right? Well, actually, no. Not at this moment in time. He was steeling himself to break sidekick law, to cross the line that cannot be crossed, to overstep the boundaries by a mile or so...

He was going to ask Hermione Granger to marry him.

It was, of course, the sin of all sins, to dare to _date_ a fellow sidekick – seeing as it takes away from Harry Potter's hero time, of course – let alone to _marry _one. That is, if things went to plan.

He'd concocted a grand scheme - with the help of a few bottles of Firewhiskey, of course. Who knew it would be so extraordinarily helpful? It even talked back to him, or so he thought.

Ron had gone out and bought a ring. It was a big shiny thing, kind of like a disco ball but not cool. Harry'd introduced him to a disco ball once, remarked Ron in his head. It had been a very good kisser.

But the ring... it was enclosed in a little blue box in his jacket pocket. It had cost him a fair mint. He wasn't too happy about that bit, and he supposed that he couldn't exactly ask her to pay him back for it. She'd probably hit him. He hated it when she hit him.

He was pacing around in the snow outside Hermione's house. There were lights on inside, but he didn't quite feel like knocking yet. The crisp winter wind was biting at his face, turning it a lovely shade of pink which clashed _marvellously _with his hair. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to warm them. There was no ring.

Ron said a loud swear word, and dropped to his knees in the snow, not caring that it was slowly wetting the only pair of clean pants he'd been able to find. Then he remembered. Other pocket. The ring was safe and sound, and Ron took another swig of Firewhiskey to celebrate. There was fog encircling the lobes of his brain, and all of a sudden, he didn't feel too good. He walked forward in what seemed to be a perfectly straight line – into a tree which had been behind him.

When he came to, he was cold, and wet, and felt like there was an ice pick secured somewhere behind his right ear. Secured pretty tightly, too.

He remembered why he had come here. He clambered over to Hermione's front door, and banged on it with his fist. What he didn't remember is that he had just been unconscious, and that in the time that had passed, Hermione had fallen asleep.

A loud thumping noise awoke Hermione. She sat up, squinting slightly, and wrapped her robe around her.

She padded out to the front door. "Draco?" she called. "I told you, wait until the sun comes up! I need my beauty sleep!"

She had been expecting a sarcastic comment about, 'Beauty? You? _Nah_', but was instead greeted with a familiar head of red hair, bending forward as it emptied the contents of its owner's stomach onto Hermione's door mat. She looked down at the figure there, with wet knees, and a pink face, and dirt all over him, and sighed. She sent a brief searching look out into the trees, and ushered Ron inside.

"You're okay now, Ronald. Please don't vomit on the- never mind."

Again, Ron awoke with a splitting headache. He groaned loudly, feeling the earth spin as he sat up. A blanket fell to the floor, and the slight _thump_ it made made him want to kill something.

His eyes settled upon the tiny figure huddled in the armchair across from him, fast asleep, and all murderous thoughts flew out of his mind. He gently placed the blanket over Hermione, grabbed his jacket, and shut the door behind him.

He was gone when she woke up. She could tell immediately. The blanket that she'd tucked over him last night, somewhere in between the rambling about elephants being sexy and the sleeping, was now covering her. She smiled faintly, and closed her eyes again, forgetting about her meeting with Draco, and that there was vomit in her crystal vase.

Ron was determined to do it right, this time. He was wearing a suit. All traces of Firewhiskey were gone. In one hand, a bouquet of red roses – Hermione's second favourite flower – and in the other, the small velvet box. There was music playing, pouring from the tip of his wand. There was a new door mat, lying in the snow where he had dropped it.

He extended a long finger, took a breath, and rang the doorbell. It echoed throughout the house, in a cacophony of chiming notes. Hermione's steps punctuated the music, which halted abruptly as she wrenched open the door.

Ronald was on one knee, looking clean and well-groomed, holding an open jewellery box towards her with the prettiest ring she'd ever seen in it.

"Hermione," he began, as her hand flew to her mouth. "I love you. I've loved you for a really long time, and even though I can be stupid and annoying sometimes, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to get you to feel as happy as I do when I'm around you."

A tear escaped from her bottom lid, and ran hastily over her cheek before it dripped off, forgotten. Hermione was beaming, her lips pressed together so she wouldn't do anything embarrassing. All she could do was stare at him.

"Please," he finished, "will you marry me, Hermione Granger?"

She nodded, her bottom lip trembling. "Yes," she whispered. "Of course.

He was on his feet in an instant, sliding the ring onto her fourth finger before he pulled her tiny frame close to his body. Her arms were tight around his neck, and he could tell that she was admiring the ring. She gave a small laugh, and pressed her lips to his, her curly hair brushed against his neck.

Ron was incredibly happy. She was going to be his wife. _She_ was going to be his wife. She was going to be his _wife_. She was going to be _his_-

His thoughts were cut off by Hermione kissing him again, and he didn't mind in the least.

Outside, standing behind a tree, was a tall, pale boy in a black suit which contrasted with his white skin and his blond hair. In one hand, was a bouquet of white lilies – Hermione's favourite flower – and in the other, a black box containing the prettiest ring she'd never see. He watched the exchange in front of him, his lip curling in distaste and the hurt in his eyes betraying his true feelings, before he slunk away without a word.


End file.
